OBELUS
by My Misguided Fairytale
Summary: Machi and Hisoka team up with Uvogin and Nobunaga for their first mission together for the Ryodan. [Hisoka x Machi, interquel to Desideratum]


OBELUS

Genres: Romance, Drama

Summary: Machi and Hisoka team up with Uvogin and Nobunaga for their first mission together for the Ryodan. / Hisoka x Machi, interquel to Desideratum

A/N: This is an interquel to _Desideratum_, and while I suggest reading that first, both stories can be read independently. The story takes place ~2 years pre-canon. I hope you enjoy!

* * *

_One year later, she meets up with Uvogin and Nobunaga for a mission, and they introduce her to their newest member. A familiar face stares back at her, his smile no less disarming and his aura no less chilling than she remembers. When he speaks, it is with an effusion of hearts._

_"Looks like we're going to be partners again, Machi~"_

* * *

_**OBELUS**_

* * *

The train ride to Sawar passes in relative peace. There was maintenance on one of the previous stations, so she's going to be at least an hour late to their scheduled meeting, and texts Nobunaga with a brief explanation.

She's in the first-class car, and although she knows she looks out of place among the few business and elite travelers, no one spares her more than a thought, even the uniformed stewards who bring her coffee and a newspaper and answer her questions about the delay.

Machi sighs. She can practically hear Uvogin's chagrin from here. At least the plush, overlarge seats in first class are a good place to wait. Baska, on the corner of the Yorubian continent, had been seeing an increase in the number of refugees lately, and the already unstable political climate in the area was rapidly disintegrating. More people seem to be taking the trains in the opposite direction, and her cabin is less than a third full. She checks her phone again—a cheap, disposable one she'd purchased for that mission—and reads Nobunaga's response. On habit, she scrolls down to see a few more messages from other members of the Genei Ryodan. Bonolenov's message is short and to-the-point, warning her about how his previous partner had interrupted their careful planning and completely botched their assigned mission. Shalnark's text, in contrast, whines about how the new member wouldn't listen to a single word he'd said. It has about three times as many exclamation points and ends with an emoticon of a frowning face.

Danchou's text message is the most cryptic of them all. She knows she will be meeting with Nobunaga and Uvogin for an important mission, and that their newest member—number four, she reminds herself—will be joining them as her new partner. But that is all. Danchou told her nothing of the mission, only that _she _is apparently the next to be burdened with the new number four. And that she'd better keep him in line. Machi almost feels put out. Almost. It can't be as bad as they say.

Shalnark's message she can dismiss as an overreaction, but Bonolenov's muted sympathy is the thing that makes her question Danchou's choice in not only recruiting but keeping this strange new member, and adding him to this team. Machi resolves to ask him about it. The old number four had not been her partner—he'd partnered with the former number eight—but she knows it makes sense to partner the two newer members with others instead of putting them together. Not that she even knows either of their names.

A brief bell chimes through the train, signaling their imminent arrival at the station. It's her stop, deep in the city center, and she takes her time exiting the train. She has no baggage or coat, only the phone, fake identification, a bank card in the same name, and enough cash if that fails. She can imagine Uvogin's chagrin at _that_, too, knowing that he prefers not to use money to acquire things. But money buys silence and discretion in a way that fists can't. Well, in most cases. The dead can't talk.

There is a festival ongoing in the city, which makes it easy for her to weave her way through the streets of Sawar, although every little noise sets her on edge. Children play with firecrackers on a curb, and men with bottles of beer in hand spill out of the many bars crammed thickly into the sides of the tall, old buildings. Flags hang from above the doorways, and a cheer goes up suddenly from one of the crowds, a group gathered around a radio spitting something she can't understand through the static.

Nobunaga had texted her the address of their meeting place; from the maps she studied on the train she knows it's an out-of-commission hotel less than a mile away, a few blocks off the main street. Close enough that they can monitor the city's activity, but far enough to be inconspicuous. She finds it with ease.

There's a sign on the doorway proclaiming the building as condemned; most buildings in the area are derelict brick structures with soot-stained windows or thin metal balconies weaving between laundry lines holding faded clothing and sheets. Only a few lights are on, and no one is around to see her enter.

She follows the open doors towards what would have served as either a ballroom or dining room. Even with a few lamps turned on, it's still mostly dark inside, and it takes Machi's eyes a moment to adjust as she scans the room.

Uvogin is difficult to miss, hulking against the side wall. Nobunaga sits, facing where she stands, sitting on a loveseat in ripped velvet the color of wine. And sitting backwards in a folding chair, his arms crossed over the backrest, is the new number four.

"Machi! You're late!" It's difficult to take Uvogin's scolding seriously when his voice is so loud. She gives him a shrug in response and crosses the room.

The figure on the chair straightens at the sound of her name, and turns his head in her direction.

A familiar face stares back at her, his smile no less disarming and his aura no less chilling than she remembers. When he speaks, it is with an effusion of hearts.

"Looks like we're going to be partners again, Machi~"

Something inside of her freezes in surprise. How could she forget the strange man she'd met a year prior, who'd helped her break into a museum? Who'd _also_ interrupted a very messy assassination mission?

Among _other _things.

Her surprise lasts only a second, and then she drops down beside Nobunaga and crosses her arms over her obi. When she looks up at him her expression is a study in indifference.

"Looks like it. Hisoka."

"Hey, hey, you two know one another?" Uvogin's loud voice booms through the room. Hisoka's barely concealing the complacent grin that stretches across his mouth as she says his name. It does not particularly matter to her whether he'd mentioned their acquaintance or not. If she can say she knows anything about him at all—which she doesn't, not really—it's that he does whatever suits him. He doesn't appear to be the slightest bit surprised to see her there, and she decides that Uvogin and Nobunaga must have mentioned her name in the interim while they waited. Or perhaps she just wasn't that memorable. The reasons don't matter, and attempting to analyze them is only a waste of her time.

Machi can feel the beginnings of a headache forming. "We worked together, once. A year ago."

"Ah, good. That should make things easier," Nobunaga says. "We're heading into Baska tomorrow. We've been hired by a man named General Felix Feyers to assist in a coup of their country."

Machi's eyes widen. That's news to her. "What do they expect us to do?"

"They want us with them when their army storms the capitol building. To help minimize their own casualties…and maximize those of the opposition. Uvogin and I will be a part of that front line. You and him"—and he nods at Hisoka—"will be security for the General and his closest supporters."

Machi glances around the room. The conversation lapses while Uvogin takes a loud pull from a can of beer. Across from her, Hisoka looks downcast, but holds his tongue. She gets the feeling that Nobunaga hasn't told them everything—maybe he doesn't know everything about this mission himself, which is uncharacteristic of Danchou not to tell them—and remembers that Danchou barely told _her _anything about it either. There must be a good reason behind it, and she resolves to ask Nobunaga if she can get him alone.

"When do we leave?" she asks.

"Tomorrow, at first light. We can each take our own way into Baska—we reconvene at the Hotel _Plavetnilo_. The following day we're at work."

_Work_. It will be good to work again. Machi has been bored as of late. Training has kept her busy, sewing up injuries in one of Baimum's busiest rural hospitals, using the opportunity to make her own stitches faster and neater, and testing new techniques on patients with atypical wounds. She is proud of the progress she has made, both in the stamina of her aura and the improved quality of her _Nen _stitches.

"If you want to rest, find anywhere you like. We picked up groceries on the way in," Nobunaga adds. "There's some takeout left for you in the staff kitchen, but it might be cold."

She stands and walks over towards the black swinging doors set into the far wall; one is off its hinge, and it's a simple matter to slip inside and take a quick inventory. The remainder of a six-pack of beer and a few plastic bags filled with foam containers litter the countertops. The subtle smell of fried food permeates the room.

After dinner she finds a spare room with a couch in slightly better condition than the one in the ballroom and catches a few hours of sleep. Every so often, Uvogin's loud laughter wakes her, and when she cannot return to sleep she consults news articles about the country's political situation on her phone.

It's a police state, this she knows, but what she learns is that its current leader assumed power in much the same way as this new General intends to, fifteen years prior. The country is small and narrow, but densely populated, and the capital city is built like a fortress, with high walls that surround a harbor and all the necessary administrative and military buildings. Machi studies maps, and plots a way in—there are mountains between Sawar and Baska, with barely any inhabitants, and one single highway that tunnels its way through—and when the first rays of light shine through the mottled window at her back, she stretches and gathers her things to prepare to leave.

The morning air is frosty as she walks through the streets, away from the rundown hotel, away from the main avenue, and she notices it the moment a second presence joins her. If anything, the temperature drops a few degrees, and the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. Leaning against a light-post stands Hisoka, and he falls into step beside her as she passes.

"May I accompany you?" He leans a little too close to her. His breath smells sour. The rest of him smells too, faintly like blood. There had been no running water in the building where they'd spent the night, and Machi will be grateful for the opportunity. She wonders what has occupied this man since they'd parted ways.

"Hm." She shrugs. "If you can keep up."

She knows he can. A familiar, easy smirk graces his features. A second later they are running; the streets at the very edges of town at this hour are largely unoccupied, and she sets the pace as eventually the buildings disappear and they are running through forests instead. The incline grows steeper, and before long the tree cover is so thick that she loses sight of Hisoka running beside her. An hour or two later, she cuts her own aura, employing _Zetsu _as they get closer to the border. He does the same.

In the mountains the foliage is less dense, and Hisoka is able to run beside her once more. She chances a look at him, and her eyes meet his instantly. Maybe he's never looked away.

She increases the pace, moving faster even though there's no point to it. If they arrive early there will be nothing to do, but this is an excellent way to put all of her careful training to the test. And, Machi admits to herself that she wants to know if he has gotten stronger, too. If he's going to be watching her back in the field, she'd like to know.

She remembers playing a similar game with him, a year ago, only he had initiated it. It's an easy pattern to fall into, jumping over branches and rocks, weaving around each other with a wordless communication that is surprisingly natural. He is every bit as agile as she is, but perhaps not as quick, although his added strength makes up for it. His strides are longer than hers. He's louder, too, but she suspects that's on purpose—his footfalls and his breathing and the occasional amused laugh.

So she stops, having covered enough ground that they can afford to take their time, not that any of the others gave a rendezvous time, only a location. Hisoka comes to a stop beside her, almost as if he was expecting it. There's another laugh, softer this time.

"You haven't changed a bit." His breath fogs the air. It's even cooler at the higher altitude. A light wash of sweat covers his forehead and the exposed skin of his arms. The makeup on his cheeks is smeared. "I'm glad."

He doesn't sound glad. He sounds _delighted_. And then his face cracks into an ominous smile. "Well, not entirely. I see you grew out your hair."

His own has changed, too, dyed from the turquoise she remembers to a truly unfortunate dark purple. She tells him that, and is rewarded with another of his laughs.

"I'll dye it another color, then. Is there anything else about me you would change?"

"Your attitude. Your melodramatics." There should be more to add, but she can't find the exact words she wants. To add anything else would make their banter far too serious. She turns her face away from him. "For a start."

Hisoka laughs again, but this time it sounds different. It sounds wrong. "Don't you want to know what I would change about you?"

"No." She does not. He leaps forward, inserting himself into her personal space once more, close enough that she has no choice but to observe the expression of keen, undisguised interest he wears as openly as the makeup drawn on his cheeks.

"We've lingered long enough," she says, her voice calm, and Hisoka nods along with her as if he likes the sound of each word individually until he puts them all together. And then, he pouts, but his eyes still hold a measure of fascination, as if in refusing him she's made herself even more worthy of his attention.

The next moment has her sprinting away again, no faster than they'd been running previously. She doesn't want him to chase her—she doesn't want him to think this _is_ a chase, heaven forbid, not that there's anything she could do about it if he decided to turn this into another game. She won't let him compromise this mission, but if their last encounter is anything to go by, she'll need to indulge him just enough that he won't get any ideas about straying from the mission parameters for his own amusement, like he'd done with Shalnark and Bonolenov.

To her relief, he runs at her side, just a few feet away. Hours later, when the trees began to clear and they come to a break atop a cliff overlooking the city of Baska, Machi stops to take in the aerial view.

Hisoka waits with her, to her surprise, but he says nothing as she surveys what she can see of the city, from the austere structures of the government buildings to the busy port to the tall, stone walls that surround the three-quarters of the city opposite the mountains. She compares what she sees now with the maps she'd seen, drawing and memorizing the main routes in her mind. When she jumps, dropping over the side of the cliff without a sound, Hisoka follows.

She skids a little on the landing, when the ground curves sharply before leveling off. And then she's walking, at an almost mechanically even pace. There's no need to sightsee or to do any additional surveillance work—the mission doesn't require it, and while she would have preferred to meet their employer _before _the day of the operation, that wasn't the arrangement they'd made. She frowns as she walks, Hisoka disappearing down a side street, drawn by a large market and a street performer doing magic tricks.

Nobunaga had made the arrangements, both with Danchou and with their contact here. Hisoka knew nothing about it, as they'd confirmed the previous night. And Uvogin…he would not be concerned at all with any aspect of tomorrow's mission. The number of enemies, type of firepower, locations of targets…not a single detail would affect how he approached things. Then why was her intuition telling her that something was off?

One foot catches the side of the curb, and she stumbles a little bit, her face growing hot. That's the consequence of getting lost in her thoughts. Charting a path to the hotel, on the furthest reaches of the tourist area of the city, by the water, Machi continues walking, this time paying more attention to her surroundings and the people she passed. Her intuition wouldn't be warning her for no reason, so she makes sure to miss nothing.

The Hotel _Plavetnilo _does not look like a hotel at all. Rather, the bottom floor seems to be a bar—and a popular one at that—open to the street, and full of loud locals who don't seem to mind the chipped, off-white paint of the exterior and the dirty windows. Machi ducks her head under the low doorframe and wrinkles her nose, taking a moment for her eyes to adjust to the lack of light. If the outside air had smelled like salt and fish, inside the sour smell of sweat competes with cigarette smoke.

Uvogin and Nobunaga have beaten her there. It's easy enough to spot them; if Uvogin's size isn't enough to distinguish him among the tables of huddled fishermen, his loud laugh more than does it.

"Machi!" Nobunaga sounds happy to see her, and as she eyes the number of beer cans littering the varnished, round tabletop, she wonders just how long they'd been there. "Join us!"

"New Omokage went to get a drink for you," Uvogin adds. It takes Machi a moment to realize he's speaking about Hisoka.

"I see," she says. She can barely hear her own voice over the rest of the bar's conversations, and a minute later Hisoka is by her side, nudging her arm with his elbow. Whatever he's holding looks to be the same in both glasses, but she grudgingly takes one when he offers it and tilts the liquid around the sides of the glass, preferring for the moment to study it than drink it.

Uvogin roars with laughter—he's been watching a game of darts going on behind their group, and the participants seem to be not very well-skilled—and Nobunaga suggests that they take up the game after the others have finished.

"What do you say, Machi?" Hisoka leans closer to speak into her ear.

"I prefer to do something productive with my time," she says. He laughs; it's a completely different sound to how Uvogin had laughed.

"Hey, hey! I've got an idea!" Nobunaga waves them all closer, and leans across the table to be better heard. "Let's have a little competition and initiate Hisoka here into one of our great traditions."

"And what would that be~?"

"Arm wrestling, of course! How about it, Machi?" Beside him, Uvogin crunches an empty beer can against the side of his head.

"Oh?" Hisoka's looking at Machi with undisguised delight, and she surveys the cluttered table before turning her attention to the three men standing before her.

"He would only need to go up against me if he couldn't defeat Uvogin. If he can, it'll save you and I the trouble." She finishes the remainder of her drink and sets the empty glass on the shuttered window ledge beside their table.

"Do you think he could? You'd bet on me, won't you, Nobu?" Uvogin's voice is like a roar, and he sweeps an arm across the table. "Let's clear some room!"

A distinct bubble of worry begins to bloom in Machi's stomach. "I really don't think that's a good idea."

"Why not?"Nobunaga follows his words with a hiccup. "Intuition?"

"Something like that." She looks away, across the bar; their group is not the noisiest by half, and so far no one seems to be paying them any serious attention, beyond the basic curiosity afforded to them as foreigners.

Uvogin leans across the table, and stretches out one massive arm. "I'm ready if you are!"

Hisoka makes his way to the empty space across from him slowly, making an effort at keeping his strange smile in check. When he props his own elbow on the high tabletop, his arm muscles bulging, Machi notices a few of the surrounding tables growing quiet, watching the two set up.

"You're an Enhancer, right?" There's a breathy lilt to the way he speaks, and although he is quiet, the others can hear every word. He laughs. "This should be very fun."

Uvogin _is _an Enhancer, Machi knows. And Hisoka is not. The others probably don't know this, but they _do_ know he is strong, and if Hisoka can measure up against someone whose very ability is pure strength, that says more about how terrifyingly powerful Hisoka really is than any other example either of them could provide.

"New Omokage!" Uvogin looks thoughtful for a moment. "What spot was Omokage? Tenth?"

Hisoka frowns at the comparison. "And what rank are you, Machi?"

"She's higher than me," Nobunaga grouses. "Higher than Danchou, even."

"Is that so?" And Hisoka grows even more excited, but his attention is drawn back when Uvogin grasps his extended hand.

"On the count of three!" Nobunaga says. "One, two, three—"

For a moment, it looks like neither of them is moving at all. Then, their hands start to shake, as little by little they both gain and lose ground.

The table groans under the stress. "100 jenny on Uvogin!" Nobunaga calls out.

Hisoka's hand looks almost comically tiny next to Uvogin's, but he's sunk his pointed nails into the side of Uvogin's hand, and when Uvogin pushes Hisoka down an inch, it's clear that if he's going to lose, it won't be easily done.

A moment later, there is an earsplitting crack, as the table splits in pieces beneath their elbows. Uvogin crashes sideways into another table, and Hisoka barely catches himself against the wall. What remains of the table are splinters.

There are a few seconds of quiet, before cheers and laughter rise up from the group at the dartboard. Uvogin stands and raises his fists, shouting, a huge smile on his red face. "Let's go again!"

The crowd cheers their approval, and Machi turns to Nobunaga. "I'm turning in. Do you have my room key?"

"Yeah." He rifles through his pockets, producing two electronic keys, and hands one over to Machi.

"We have to be at the military headquarters…"

"Bright and early. I know," Machi says. "Use that 100 jenny you bet on repaying the cost of the table, okay?"

"What? Hey! Machi!" He calls after her, but she's already gone, threading through the crowds of the bar towards the hotel's desk and the guest rooms. She chooses the stairs over the elevator, flipping the key over and studying the number scribbled on the back in black marker. 309. Third floor, then.

The stairs creak. She turns to see Hisoka a few steps behind her, one hand on the banister and the other propped on his hip. He ascends the stairs, slowly, and when she steps to the side he passes her, lingering on the stair above so he can lean over her.

"I was thinking of the last time we met," he says. "I'm glad I could see you again so soon."

She ignores him, and when she continues up the stairs, he falls into step beside her. It reminds her, uncomfortably, of their trip through the mountains.

"We worked well together, didn't we?" His voice drops, both in volume and in pitch. "I'm looking forward to repeating the _experience_." When she looks sharply up at him, his eyes are lit up with something Machi finds deeply unpleasant.

Oh, _hell_ no. "All I need from you is to follow my orders and not cause any trouble. Are we going to have any problems?" She can match his fire with frost any day. He looks pleased by her reactions, which is puzzling enough. She'll work through all the intricacies of his pretenses later.

When she opens the door to the room, Hisoka files in after her. She doesn't even hear him close the door. The room is large, and nearly empty of furniture save for the large bed and the dresser shoved into one corner. There's a curtain for privacy in front of the sink, and a door leading to the rest of the bathroom.

Only one of the two sconces light up when Hisoka flicks the light switch.

"I'm taking a shower," Machi announces. When Hisoka takes a step forward, she shoots him a glare. "That _wasn't _an invitation."

She pulls the curtain closed, and a moment later the door slams. Having gone without the previous day, she wasn't about to let anyone else use up the hot water.

When she leaves, a towel around her wet hair, Hisoka brushes past her, leaving the curtain half-open. "_My_ invitation is always open," he says. "_Machi_."

She doesn't reply. And when he finishes his own shower, he sees that Machi is already fast asleep, in a hammock she's woven in the empty corner of the room out of _Nen_ threads connected to the ceiling.

He looks at the bed. She's taken both pillows. And the only blanket.

* * *

They meet in front of the hotel at dawn; Machi persuades the bar manager to rustle up some food for them for fifty jenny, and then the others head out into the city. Uvogin is as loud and boisterous as at any other hour, but Nobunaga grumbles curses into his egg sandwich. It sours Machi's morning that she can now say she knows that Hisoka is surprisingly alert when he wakes up. She watched him apply his makeup in the mirror over the sink—he'd leaned over it to draw the shapes on his cheeks with gel ink and thin brushes, leaving the curtain wide open and occasionally glancing at Machi through the mirror. With the broken sconce the light was dim, and it cast the sculpted lines of his naked back in a way that was entirely too familiar. Her attention kept returning to his tattoo, and the large number four in the center. His hair was down, and mussed from sleep, and even though it's now gelled into place she can't get the image out of her mind.

"Follow me," Nobunaga says, around a mouthful of food. "We should be right on time."

They ran the six miles to their arranged meeting place, the military headquarters, at a moderate pace. The building was constructed in a dated, imperial style, in white stone with tall columns around the perimeter and windows made of thick glass backed with fabric curtains. They circled the building once before entering; Machi could not see inside, but she knew the interior would be much more advanced from what she could see with her eyes. They passed through a corridor with metal detectors and scanners, through a series of open doors into an open courtyard; on the other side of the stone façade the construction changed significantly, and Machi counted at least three layers of electronic security, and the few guards posted seemed to recognize them by sight and waved them past without a word.

"Sandwich not agreeing with you?" It's Nobunaga. Machi appreciates that he's picked up on her unease.

"No. It's…" She doesn't know how to word exactly how she feels, and just saying _intuition _like she did the previous night doesn't help to appropriately convey how she feels or alleviate any of her restlessness. "I don't really like this."

"Having second thoughts about the mission?" Nobunaga asks.

"No, it's not that," she says. "I just feel like I'm missing something."

Nobunaga looks like he's about to say something else, before he spots something over Machi's shoulder and he stands a little straighter, waving with the hand not resting on the hilt of his sword.

"General!" Then, to the others, as a tall, broad-shouldered man in a military uniform approaches them, two attachés standing behind him on either side, "this is the Baskan General Felix Feyers, soon-to-be leader of this country."

"With your help," the man says. "I thank you and your boss for the assistance you provide."

"And we thank you for the money you're paying," Nobunaga replies.

"Ah! And this must be the muscleman your boss mentioned? Or perhaps the brute strength comes from the lady?" He ignores Hisoka, who isn't even facing the others, turned away and looking at something on the other end of the compound. In examining Hisoka's aura, he seems almost bored, instead of the threatening nature she expects. She supposes once the fighting starts, she'll see that side of him return.

"This is our medic," Nobunaga says, gesturing towards her, then to Uvogin. "He'll be the one on the front lines, with me. These two will be your protection."

Felix looks between them, as if sizing them up individually. If he has any doubts about their strength, they will be disproved shortly.

"All of the men and women working here are loyal to me. It is only in the capitol building, where the President sits, that I have been unable to breach. He distrusts me, you see, and has been making preparations of his own. Once we seize him and force him to step down, my soldiers can assume command of the facilities. Hopefully, the only people who need to suffer today are the ones who refuse this change."

Gesturing down towards the other end of the compound, Felix continues, "My soldiers are already assembled and waiting. I was only delayed by your own arrival, and that of the President. But now you both are here, and we will begin."

* * *

Machi waits with Hisoka outside the closed doors to the President's office. He's shuffling his remaining cards, rearranging them and playing some game with himself as Machi leans against the wall.

What exactly the General was doing to the current ruler is none of her concern, but she has set up a few strings along the walls of the corridor and inside the President's office, when the General had initially taken the building. They can hear voices, faintly, and every so often there is shouting in a language Machi does not understand. Hisoka attempts to initiate small talk a few times, but so far Machi has ignored him. The opportunity to speak to him privately is finally too much to pass up.

"I'm curious," Machi says; Hisoka looks up at her immediately. "What made you decide to join the Genei Ryodan?"

"I can't say that it was _entirely_ because of you"—she frowns at the way his aura seems to sparkle, like there are hearts on the edge of every word—"but you did launch my interest. I knew you were a member, of course," he says, his voice low. "I've seen your tattoo, after all. But I had no idea I would meet you again here. Having you as my partner was a surprise to me as well, _Machi_."

He says her name slowly, like a caress. She hates it.

"But it was your leader, Kuroro—"

That gets her attention, and her head snaps up. "What about him?"

"He's very strong. I thought I'd like to fight him, and the easiest way to get to him is to become one of you. So I disposed of one of your members, and took his place." When he smiles, it is complacent. "I'm a patient man when it comes to something I want. I'll wait for my chance to fight him."

The thought of the two of them fighting is initially ludicrous—Danchou is the strongest person she knows, there's no way he would even entertain such an offer, let alone actually fight someone like Hisoka—and absolutely terrifying. She knows her leader, and she knows Hisoka, and while she has the utmost confidence in her Danchou, the amount of damage they could do to the other would be immense.

"That will never happen," she says, radiating pride. "He will never fight you."

"You sound so certain. Are you really so close to Kuroro?"

She wants to tell him to get Danchou's name out of his mouth, but to say such a thing would be to confirm the suspicion creeping into his voice. "I am close to everyone in the Ryodan."

Hisoka's eyes light up and she realizes her error. "Oh? How about me?"

"I'll make an exception."

"We could fight one another instead, if you like. I'm not bored yet of talking to you, though."

"I don't _care _whether you're bored or not. I don't care about what you want. I don't care about _you_. You can do what you want on your own time." She changes the conversation, instead asking him, "Are you upset you weren't in the thick of the fighting?"

"I am happy to wait with you," Hisoka says, smiling even wider when Machi makes a huff of indignation. "And besides, the medic can't get hurt, or else you won't be able to patch us up if something goes wrong."

Machi hardly considers that a valid reason to avoid combat—she can patch herself up as easily as she can others, and after her recent training she has a renewed confidence in her abilities—and considers sewing his lips together so he'll stop saying such ridiculous things. Or bind his fingers together, so he can't throw those cards he likes so much.

Before she can say anything further, she notices something strange. She can feel it, suddenly, the aura of a Nen-user, somewhere in the building. Somewhere near them.

"You sense it too," Hisoka says. She nods.

"I wonder who it is." She hadn't sensed such a thing earlier; either they were exceptionally good at _Zetsu_, or they had just now joined the fight.

"A wild card? Hmm." Hisoka fans out the cards in his hand, selects one, and replaces it at the front. "Perhaps we should rejoin the others, and see just who we're really dealing with here?"

"We have our orders," she begins, faltering when Hisoka takes a step forward. Orders from both Nobunaga _and _their employer. "We should stay here."

There's a loud _thud _from the other side of the door, and then they can hear voices, much louder than before. She recognizes Uvogin's among them, and tosses her restraint aside, throwing open the door and running inside. He opens one hand, and out falls a number of crushed bullets. The other men in the room, excepting General Feyers, all hold guns tipped with silencers, pointed straight at Uvogin.

"They thought to turn their weapons on me and Nobu, after our work was done." He says it for the benefit of Machi and Hisoka, although he does not turn away from the soldiers.

"What can I say? There are rather large bounties on all your heads. The sum is the same, dead or alive. My country thanks you for your sacrifice," the General says, raising his hands, before the glass windows to the side of the President's desk shatter and Nobunaga emerges, crouched on the windowsill with his sword drawn. He angles the blade and prepares to charge—

Machi blinks. There's an odd feeling in her stomach, and then the cream-painted walls of the President's office are replaced with the clinical starkness of a hallway that is completely foreign to her. Beside her stands Uvogin, who experiences a similar reaction—he jerks his head around, his arms flailing slightly from an unfounded sense of vertigo.

Nobunaga and Hisoka are nowhere to be seen. "They split up our team," she says. "That Nen user. We were…transported here. Are we still in the same building?"

"This is certainly unexpected," Uvogin booms, uncaring that the now-enemy soldiers might hear them and rediscover their location. "I'm going to find them again."

Coating his body in aura, he slams through the nearest wall.

"No, wait-!" The wall crumbles, the floor above giving way, and Machi darts to the side, avoiding the falling plaster. "Our orientation has been altered. Who's to say that's the right direction?"

She can hear the sound of gunfire, and then one of Uvogin's laughs, followed by the cracking sound of another wall falling down. Machi knows the best solution is to find a window; if she knows the direction of the sun, she can easily locate the office, and her teammates, again.

"Freeze!"

The voice comes from behind her. Spinning, Machi launches a needle towards the soldier, drawing his arms up as the bullets from his gun spray uselessly into the walls and ceiling. She throws him through the hole Uvogin had created and moves down the hallway, kicking open doors until she finds an office with a window. She breaks it and climbs out.

The sun is shining directly through. They appear to be in the same building, and on the ground floor. Jumping to the ground, she runs around to the front of the building. The President's office faces that direction, and she can easily jump up into the window like Nobunaga had.

Those dirty, gutless, good for nothings. They betrayed her team. A quiet rage overtakes her—it's almost comforting in how it allows her to think clearly and move with efficiency, but the bulk of her mind is still directed towards the problem of the Nen user and how to defeat them. What she will do to the General who betrayed them and the soldiers who follow his orders.

She turns the corner and runs into Hisoka.

Stumbling, she draws a few Nen strings between her hands, the gesture useless as Hisoka spins, dispatching the few soldiers following him with playing cards to the neck and joints of the arms.

"What happened?" she asks.

"You disappeared. Then the two of us were teleported directly in front of a firing squad." He laughs, the sound as sharp as a knife. "Uvogin isn't the only one who can stop bullets."

She files that information away for further use. "And then what?"

"And then I had some new toys to play with." Hisoka frowns, and then tosses aside a card stained with blood. "I broke them all."

"Where is Nobunaga?"

"They captured him, I believe," he says. "I could sense your aura, so I was coming to find you."

"You _abandoned_ him?" She tries to contain her anger; directing it at Hisoka will do no good, but he left a teammate behind when she knows full well he had the ability to recover him. "You don't leave behind a teammate."

"And where is Uvogin? Did you get separated?"

The questioning lilt in his voice spikes her irritation again; the two situations are completely different, but then there is a resounding _boom _from the building behind them. She recognizes the sound as another wall crumbling.

"That's him," she says. "Let's go."

He follows her command without protest, letting her lead the way back inside the window she'd smashed and following Uvogin's trail of broken walls. They find him in another courtyard similar to the one in the military center, surrounded by soldiers. He barely shows signs of injury, but there's so many of them, keeping a constant assault, that he has no time to prepare a larger attack. When Machi sees him, she jumps down into the fray, clutching Nen threads sharp as piano wire between her hands, and slices up through the nearest soldier's weapon, severing the gun in three places. She spins and kicks another in the stomach, sending them barreling into the path of two more advancing soldiers.

Hisoka's attacks, on the other hand, are sporadic and inconsistent; one moment he's sending a volley of cards towards a few assailants on the far edges of the formation, the next he's lunging to the side, using physical attacks to take out soldiers one at a time, or standing and waiting for them to attack before dispatching them with ease.

He's playing with them, she realizes. Like he said, he considers them his toys. He's not thinking at all about recovering Nobunaga, or finishing this mission. Only about his own enjoyment. A knife wound stretches the width of his bicep, just a glance, but he doesn't even seem to notice it.

A stabbing pain shoots up her left shoulder. She'd gotten careless, and a soldier had gotten close enough to bury a knife in the back of her shoulder. She reaches and wrenches it out, flinging it back at whoever she thinks sent it. When the soldier falls, he doesn't get up.

The battle continues around her. Her left sleeve hangs ragged and soaked with blood from the injury. She tests her shoulder, rotating it and wincing at the pain. It isn't so bad; it doesn't require immediate attention, but she rips the sleeve and casts the fabric aside, ceasing the use of that arm and using her teeth and her good arm to hold the spare end of the threads she uses to drag soldiers in the paths of their comrade's bullets and slice through their arms and weapons.

She reaches Uvogin; many of the remaining soldiers are retreating, and although Hisoka follows a few when Machi calls to him he returns to their group.

"We need to retreat and regroup, too," she says. "We can't take on the Nen user without a plan of attack."

"Where is Nobu?"

"We don't know where he is," Machi says. The words are thick in her throat, like she was somehow complicit in his abduction. "He was captured by the enemy."

"He can take care of himself," Uvogin says. "You and Hisoka require medical attention."

She ignores that last part. "A surprise attack is the best way to overpower this enemy," she continues.

"I agree," Uvogin's voice booms.

"We can't stay here much longer." It's Hisoka, looking around the perimeter of the central courtyard. His entire body is tense. "They'll try to close off our escape routes. We need to leave now."

"Then let's go." Machi lets Uvogin lead the way at first, climbing over the building's roof and running through the deserted city streets; a siren sounds from mounted speakers on several street corners, and she can see a few military vehicles rolling down the street several blocks away. When Uvogin turns, as if heading back in the direction of their hotel, Hisoka and Machi continue in the other direction, towards the mountains.

"The hotel isn't safe. We need somewhere they won't look for us," she says. "And it doesn't help that we all stick out like sore thumbs."

It'll be one of her first tasks, procuring disguises for them all. The people of this country have a particular style—favoring dark colors and patterns on thick fabrics in conservative cuts, and oiled cloth for those who work around the water. They cover their heads with scarves or hats for the cool weather. It would make blending in easy, since Uvogin's massive height and both Hisoka's and her hair color in no way resemble those of any of the citizens she's seen.

"Where to, then?" Uvogin asks.

She recalls the time spent at the top of the mountains, looking at the city spread out before her like a map. There had been a large bridge, connecting the city to its neighbors around the mountains. And beneath it there was a seaport, a large one, with enough empty hangars and crates that no one would notice their presence. It would be easy to get in and out, and they could monitor the main roads with ease.

"Follow me," she says.

On the way, there was one thing about their earlier battle that Machi could still not make sense of.

"The Nen user's _Zetsu_ must be powerful." Machi could not sense them in the courtyard and she cannot sense them now, and she's no slouch when it comes to _En_. Their aura had felt oily, like it clung to the air and everything around it.

"The General is the Nen user," Hisoka tells her. "I saw it with my own eyes. He teleported guns and knives out of the air, directly into his soldier's hands. They never needed to reload."

"What exactly did you see?" she asks. "Tell us more."

They run in a blur. "First Uvogin disappeared, then you. The next thing I knew I was in the courtyard, facing their army. Nobunaga appeared soon after." His eyes narrow as he catches on. "You mean to understand his ability? Do you think that is the extent of his range of teleportation?"

"There must be limits," she says. "So he can transport items as well as people, but he can only transport one thing at a time."

It starts to rain as they enter the shipping compound, jumping the fence and moving closer to the abutment of the bridge. "And there's a limit to how far he can transport things." She remembers the open courtyard, and the view from the windows of the President's office. There had been television screens along one wall, too, showing security feeds of parts of the rest of the building.

"He has to be able to see the place he's transporting things to," she concludes. "But not necessarily with the naked eye."

She feels more confident now that they've established that much, at least. "But how do you fight such an ability? If anyone attacks, he could just teleport them away. And it was disorienting, for a moment. It's a good offensive _and _defensive ability."

Uvogin is oddly silent as they run, only adding that they choose a building with a water hook-up feature so they don't have to repeat the experience of their night in Sawar.

"The way this day's been going, it'll probably flood," she says, pushing her wet bangs out of her face.

They find a dry hangar, a low-ceilinged, wide space with a few empty shipping crates and dark offices. There's water, and it's warm in the office spaces, and the three drop against the wall. Machi turns to her shoulder, and after assessing her wound, begins to stitch it up. A minute later she is finished, and notices that Hisoka, seated beside her, is watching her work with interest.

"Could you do that for me?" he asks, pointing towards the cuts on his right arm. She leans over to get a better look, grasping his arm and turning it to see the full extent of his injuries.

"These don't need stitches," she says, dropping his arm. "They're too shallow."

He pouts, but he does not look away. His attention remains fully focused on her shoulder, and the Nen stitches shining there.

"I'm going to do some surveillance and get supplies." She climbs to her feet. It's only been a break of a few minutes, but it's enough for the moment. "Any requests?"

"Dry clothes." Uvogin's already shrugged out of the wet pelt he'd had draped over his shoulders, and hung it up over the edge of a desk chair. "And take him with you. I have some phone calls to make."

That's an odd thing for him to say. She supposes Uvogin would rather not watch him either, but she _is _his partner, and the second they were separated he went and put a teammate in danger.

"While we're gone, try to come up with a way to get around the teleportation problem," she tells him. To Hisoka, "Come on."

Once outside the office, they walk the length of the hangar with slow, even strides. Searching the other offices for jackets, _anything_ for the rain, is her first priority.

"How will you find clothing to fit him?" Hisoka asks.

Does she sense genuine curiosity there? It almost makes her laugh. "I'll alter something. I know the measurements of everyone in the Ryodan. Even if all I can find is fabric, it'll be no trouble to make something simple."

"Not everyone," he says. "What will you do for me?"

She'll need to get his measurements. His mouth widens into an impossibly indulgent grin as she huffs and moves to stand before him, alighting her hands first on the sides of his arms, then the tops of his shoulders, then the top of his head. She turns, circling him slowly, and settles one hand low against his back and the other against his stomach. The entire process takes only a second or two, but he makes it feel drawn-out and indecent. She steps back.

Hisoka extends his arms, feigning disappointment. "That's all?" He never breaks eye contact with her.

"That's all," she repeats.

Inside the first office she checks she finds, to her disbelief, a coat rack with several of the oiled black raincoats favored by the dock workers they'd seen in the bar the previous day. She pulls one from the rack, checks the size, and puts it back.

She feels Hisoka lightly grab her arm, but doesn't think much of it—perhaps she deadened a few nerves in her arm on accident while she was sewing—but when she looks down she sees him drawing hearts in the blood on her exposed shoulder.

She throws a too-large jacket at his face and grabs the smallest size for herself, zipping it up and tightening the drawstrings over the hood to better hide her hair.

"If I give you a task, will you do it?" she asks.

"Of course," he says.

"Get some food. Non-perishables. And dry clothing or blankets, enough for us all. Return here in two hours."

"Consider it done."

"I'll find out where they're keeping Nobunaga, and see if I can't pin down the General's location. Give me your number—if I run into any trouble, I'll call you."

He pauses. "I would, if I had a phone."

"You _what?_" Her disbelief is overshadowed by his embarrassed shrug and the fact that she's never seen him carry or use one before. "What happened to it?"

"I fell on it, during the battle. It's crushed."

Well, there's no helping _that_ now. "I won't run into any trouble, then."

The rain is constant, but not much heavier than it had been when they entered the building. It doesn't surprise her that no one is around; she remembers the sirens, and the military trucks rolling up the streets. There's likely a curfew in effect, and while it will make moving around easier, the rain will have washed away valuable cues around those buildings, like tire tracks or blood. Bodies would have been moved, and the compounds would be on high alert with their security. She cannot go any closer than the rooftops of the adjoining buildings, but she employs _Zetsu _and makes her way around the city.

The General seems to have recalled most or all of his troops back to the military headquarters building. The number of visible guards posted around the building are triple what she remembers from that morning, and she does her best to count and memorize the number of people she sees enter and exit. She would normally write everything down, but in this rain, the ink would smear before she would even get a chance to finish.

The President's office is fully lit, but as she watches, she comes to the conclusion that no one is inside. Rather, it's a trap to draw them out—that they would return to the last place they'd seen him, the place that he would most likely be.

She thanks Uvogin for the damage he'd done to the adjoining courtyard; the open space connects the military headquarters with the capitol building, and with parts of the ceiling caved in it's easy for her to see down into what were the penitentiary cells, where the iron bars have been bent in by the rubble and restructured into a mass holding cell for what must be the remainder of the opposing military force. Perhaps Nobunaga is being held somewhere nearby.

She trusts Nobunaga to work from the inside and free himself if the danger is great enough; once they have taken down the main threat, they will free him.

As she sits in the rain, crouched on the rooftop of the second-tallest building in the city, she thinks about where the General would be hiding. The most secure location is the obvious answer, somewhere tight enough that he can shroud himself but with enough visibility that his own ability can work to its greatest effect. It's likely that someone so proficient in _Zetsu _would have holes somewhere else in their Nen technique—conversely, their _En _would be weaker. That supports her theory that they would sequester themselves like this.

She remembers the corridors of the headquarters building, set at perpendicular angles to the main, enlarged hallway. Wherever the security center was, with its monitors and electronic surveillance, she would most likely find him. They intend to wait out the time until her team reveals themselves in an attempt to save their teammate, and engage in battle on a field they know best. The building is likely already rigged to help him achieve this goal.

It was Nobunaga who knew him best, who had been in contact with him the entire time. He would have a better idea of the layout of these buildings and the mind of their enemy. Instead, he had been secretive about all aspects of the mission, and at the first turn he'd been taken from them by the enemy's betrayal and Hisoka's inattention.

She scowls, but reigns her aura in through the spike in her emotions. She knows how everyone fits together on this team—Uvogin is the chief muscle, Nobunaga acts as protection or decoy for the target of their theft, and she excels at surveillance and medical support. Hisoka, for all his strength and the supreme adaptability of his abilities, throws a wrench into the careful organization of their group.

And she knows the others are keeping secrets from her. But she trusts them, so she shakes the rain from her jacket and leaps away, returning to the shipyard hangar building.

Hisoka waits for her inside the large, open space, following her inside the open door of the first office. The carpeting inside is a welcome relief; the water's soaked through her shoes, and she toes them off, kicking them against the far wall.

He offers her a bag of prepackaged, convenience-store food, and she tears into the sandwiches and plastic-wrapped cakes with gusto.

"I need to talk to Uvogin," she says, around a mouthful of sandwich.

"He's asleep." He hands her a bottle of water next, and she's glad that he had the prudence not to steal something caffeinated or alcoholic. "It can wait."

She drains half the bottle and when she tries to set it down he takes it from her hands, lifting it and taking a drink. She doesn't care enough to stop him. "I believe I know where the General is. Tomorrow, we'll bring the fight to him. I was thinking of ways to get around his ability—you can use that adhesive aura of yours to stick your feet to the floor. I was thinking of doing something similar with my strings, so even if I'm teleported away, I'll always be able to maintain my sense of direction."

"It's called _Bungee Gum_, Machi~"

"Whatever."

"You're not interested in my ability?" He leans closer, his eyes dark, but Machi busies herself with searching through the rest of the food. There are a few bottles of a shot-styled energy drink. An oversized bag of chips. Some pre-packaged breakfast pastries. A few packs of chewing gum.

She tosses it aside, on an empty desk shoved into one corner of the room. "Not really."

"I'm interested in yours," he says.

She recognizes his lies. "That's not what you're thinking about right now. You're thinking about fighting the General. You're thinking about fighting Danchou."

"And you're not thinking about him? He sent us out here, did he not?"

She'd thought about contacting him while she waited on that rooftop, but she hadn't wanted to worry him. If something happened to Nobunaga, or to any of them, she wouldn't hesitate to report in and ask for help. Until that happened, she would prove she could lead this team.

"And the mission's changed," she tells him. "We'll handle it."

"It intrigues me, that he could inspire such blind faith from you." They've been holed up for so long that the makeup on his face is almost completely worn away, and his hair droops from the lack of product in it. It makes him look too familiar. "I want to hear more."

"I should remind you that fighting is forbidden within the Ryodan," she says.

Hisoka waves his arm, laughing. "If he was here, right now, nothing would stop me from fighting him. Not even you."

Above them, the sound of the rain splattering against the metal rooftop rises in pitch. "That's all you want, I know."

His eyes flicker to her and then withdraw. "There is almost nothing I want more."

She doesn't want to hear about it—about him fighting Danchou, about his admissions that he would further jeopardize their mission for his own selfish desires, and turns away.

"Are you going to be cruel to me again," he says, "or, perhaps, will you think of some _incentive_ for my continued good behavior?"

She looks up at him, over her shoulder, imaging razor-sharp diamonds emanating from his every calculated pause. "Do I need to stitch your lips together?"

"That would be something, wouldn't it?" He sighs, and she turns away again, trying her best to ignore how close he's standing and how it suddenly feels too hot in that tiny room. She feels his hands on the edge of her jacket hood, pulling the left edge down past her torn sleeve, and pushes her loose ponytail to the other side of her neck.

"I want to see your ability again," he says into her neck, before he drops his mouth to the exposed skin of her shoulder, where the stitches are. His breath is hot as he kisses the skin above the stitches. It feels strange; not unpleasant, but it's like the feeling is coming from beneath her skin instead of floating above the surface. He kisses her shoulder again, longer this time, and brings his arms up to wrap them around her.

She thinks she could use him, to burn off some steam, to forget about everything else for a moment. It's surprisingly easy to lean back against him and let him push the edges of her jacket off until it falls to the floor. He steps around it, turning her so she faces him, and kisses her.

Her mouth opens and he deepens the kiss, pulling her harshly against him. His hands are everywhere, but hers are slower, rising to grip his biceps, then move to his shoulders, then his chest. He is exactly as she remembers. She wants to map his tattoo with more than just her eyes.

Through their thin layers of clothing she can feel the way his chest expands with every quick, deep breath. The taste of him burns her mouth, like something too artificially sweet.

He returns his mouth to her neck and she relaxes again, closing her eyes. She sweeps her hands up his back, to grip the collar of his rainjacket. The dark blue color is the last thing seared into her vision, and when she runs her fingers through his hair it's loose and longer than she thought it would be, with the product washed out. He's not making any noises, but when she yanks on his hair he groans. In her mind the room is dimly lit and warmed by candlelight, and although they're both dirty and tired they find enough energy to collapse into one another's arms.

She lets a name escape her lips. "Kuroro…"

The body above her stills. It takes her a moment before she realizes, and when she draws back, his eyes are inscrutable.

"Hisoka." She doesn't know where to look. Saying his name now—saying _any _name at all—had been a mistake.

He leans back in as if he hadn't heard her at all. This time, _she _stills, and turns her face at the last moment so his lips only graze her cheek. There's a quiet laugh, barely audible, deep in his thoat, and he grabs the bag of food before leaving the room.

She stumbles backward until her back hits the wall. Then she slides down, stretching out her legs, and stares at the half-open door.

The room is cold. The sound of the rain returns, so loudly that she can't pretend it isn't there. She hates that she can still feel his hands on her body.

The moment passes. She draws the jacket tight around her and breathes in the scent of fish and salt.

Machi thinks of the things she wants. The list is longer than she'd like.

* * *

Breakfast is a rushed affair—the sun isn't even up, but there's a break in the rain, so they decide to work with the time while it's in their favor—and Machi shares her observations on the military headquarters building and the General's Nen ability.

"Have you seen him teleport himself?" Uvogin asks; his voice echoes, even in the small office room.

Machi can't believe that hadn't occurred to her yet. "No."

"A limitation?" Hisoka looks thoughtful. "That means he can't escape."

"Or he hasn't done it to make us think he can't," Machi says. "But I agree, that's what's most likely."

She'd already taken a look at the cloaks and jackets Hisoka had retrieved, and quickly altered enough clothing for the three of them so they could stay warm and dry out in the field. The colors were muted and ugly, and clashed with Hisoka and Machi's hair, but after it had taken all night for her shoes to dry, the importance of having appropriate clothing for the weather and region was not lost on her.

"We need to take him out as fast as we can," she continues. "The longer the battle goes, the more advantageous it is for him."

"He'll try to separate us again," Uvogin says.

Machi raises a hand, threads gleaming between each finger. "Let him try."

* * *

They each take a separate path into the compound. Hisoka takes the front entrance, dispatching the guards stationed there with ease. Uvogin enters from the courtyard, and Machi uses a window on the main floor, where the security office is located.

She weaves threads across the walls and high ceiling of the corridor, connecting herself in no fewer than three places at any one time. Up through the glass set high into the ceiling of the main atrium, she can see the rain falling thickly—it's ominous, and she feels that familiar surge of intuition telling her that something is off, that she's missing something again.

Suddenly, every single door opens, in front of her and behind her. There is gunfire, from the men and women using the doors as shields, and then her body is wrenched upwards, as she reappears up at the top of the glass atrium, looking down five floors to the ground, surrounded by a maze of hallways, each railing staffed by armed guards.

She falls, yanking the threads connecting her to the walls, immediately adjusting her trajectory and crashing instead into the soldiers on the third floor, hastily throwing and pulling up more threads to sweep them over the edge of the railing to fall in her place. They are teleported, one by one, reappearing only a few inches above the ground, landing unharmed. A few unlucky ones are too late to be saved.

She searches for the General, and finds him hidden in a group—the strange, oily feel of his aura is easy to pick out, and she readies threads between her hands. If she can just get one thread on him, they have won.

He can't see her from where she is, so he can neither teleport her, or teleport anyone else to where she is. Suddenly, his aura lashes out, and Machi sees Hisoka—but unlike with her, when the General had teleported her to the top of the ceiling, Hisoka's body appears above the thick glass inserts in the roof, and he smashes through, tumbling as both rainwater and glass rush through the opening.

He catches himself, with strips of sticky aura attached to his feet and the new gap in the ceiling.

Gunfire erupts from the railing across from her, and Machi ducks, flinging her body up and down a floor, using the surprised soldiers there as cover. Hisoka, upside-down, deflects the bullets aimed his way with a technique she cannot see, but a moment later the gunfire stops.

She feels her body disappear again, and a moment later she reappears, on the other side of the atrium, a half-dozen bullets from Hisoka's ricochet flying her way. She realizes it a moment too late, and dodges five, but the last grazes her midsection.

The General has isolated himself now, standing in the middle of the entryway, visible from all sides—and now able to see every inch of the building's open corridors. Machi blinks, and she's falling again.

Hisoka catches her this time, holding on to her with a thick palmful of sticky aura, and this time, they do not move from their new perch on the other side of the railing on the top floor. Beside them, the rain falls in all directions from the General's teleportation attempts.

"He can only teleport one thing at a time," Hisoka says, drawing up their hands and grinning at their linked fingers. "If we're connected, he can't do anything."

A soldier appears in front of her. She kicks him in the stomach and pulls Hisoka to the side when another appears in front of him. He draws her closer, spinning her under his arm so he can throw cards at both with his free hand, switching their positions so when the next soldier appears, Machi is ready.

When the soldiers stop coming, she glances out to the window overlooking the courtyard. The glass is still intact, and even through the heavy rain she can see a figure, walking towards them.

It's Uvogin. She can see him—he makes a fist, and hunches his body, and Machi's blood goes cold. She yanks on Hisoka's arm, pulling him after her as she runs down the hallway—she can't understand why he would use that technique, he's going to _level _the building, and when he does she can't be anywhere but at the top when it happens.

She can hear his voice, almost as loud as the explosion when his fist strikes the ground. "_Big. Bang. Impact!_"

The force of it throws her off her feet and she slams into the side of the wall. She breaks physical contact with Hisoka, but the line of Bungee Gum remains.

The entire ceiling and side of the building is collapsed, and pieces of plaster and steel framework crumble from the cracks spreading with every passing second.

After Uvogin climbs through the rubble, another figure appears, crouched beside him, a moment later. The floor she's standing on is about to collapse, so Machi flips over the side of the railing, using a thread to slow her descent as she lands beside Nobunaga.

He's sporting more than a few half-healed bruises, but otherwise he doesn't appear to have any injuries. She breathes a little easier. "Why didn't you break yourself out?"

"They stole my sword. I didn't know where they were keeping it," he says. "And besides, these fights were barely a challenge. I figured I'd just wait until you showed up. You sure took your time."

Machi hides a smile. "Good to see you too, Nobunaga."

Hisoka alights on a piece of rubble beside them, barely making a noise. "Now, shall we finish things here?"

She recognizes this tone in his voice. It's the razor-sharp diamonds again, and when she uses Gyo she sees the trail of aura, connecting his right hand to her left wrist. If he charges in to fight, he'll be dragging her right behind him.

Nobunaga tenses, then draws his sword.

"I'll try to get a string on him," Machi says. "You keep him busy?"

The request isn't directed at any of them in general, but Hisoka cracks his knuckles. When Uvogin laughs, the sound is every bit as chilling as the initial crash of his punch had been.

She hangs back and watches them fight; Hisoka lengthens the string of aura connecting them, and uses two others to connect himself to the railings and walls, always maintaining levels of connection on three axes, like she'd done earlier.

His vision is focused entirely inward, everything else consumed by his own bloodlust and his search for an outlet on which to release it. When he moves it is almost like she's watching an object, or a digital construction, instead of a person. His eyes never leave the General, who parries every attempted attack by transporting blocks of rubble in his enemies' paths, or by turning them around or upside-down in an effort to confuse their sense of direction and give him an opportunity to attack. Every card Hisoka throws gets transported back on himself, or in the others' way. Machi dodges a few attacks, then jumps, up to the railings, mirroring Nobunaga's movements. He knows this place best, after all.

An attack from a place the enemy cannot see is the only way to land a certain, direct hit. He's backed himself up to what remains of a wall, but when Uvogin punches the floor again they all go flying, but for Machi—already in the air, yanking herself forward with a thread connecting her body to a fixed point at the very front of the atrium—the opening is enough to pierce a needle, threaded with Nen, deep inside the General's spine.

They are thrown back by a series of random, desperate teleportations, but Machi hangs on to the other end of the thread, and watches the General run. It is a useless effort.

Beside her, Hisoka's upper body sticks out from underneath a piece of stone. He struggles to lift it, and she can see a thin line of blood snaking out from the crushed rubble beneath him.

"Machi!" It's Nobunaga, who reaches for her. "Give me the thread!"

Uvogin's already in pursuit, but she does, tying it tightly around his left hand.

"We've got things from here," he says. "Help him. Don't wait for us."

It's an odd command, but she's already leaning by Hisoka's side the moment her first task is complete, drawing new threads to loop around the large, uneven stone—remnants of a pillar, she believes—and create a pulley system to lift it, slowly hauling the stone up enough that Hisoka can slip out from underneath it.

He staggers to his feet, breathing heavily. A jagged cut slices its way across his midsection, bleeding freely over the torn edges of his white shirt. He doesn't look at her.

Machi already has a free needle in her hand, preparing to thread it for stitches. "Let me heal you."

"Not yet." He breathes in, sharply, his body hunched over, before he takes off at a run after Nobunaga.

"Hey! Wait!" She follows, as fast as she can, noticing that he's dropped the line of aura connecting them. He has a very powerful _En_, she knows, and if she loses him now the only way she'll be able to track him is by the trail of blood and bodies he'll leave in his wake. She remembers how they had run together, when they first entered this city—that had been a game, but not a chase. Not a hunt. They were side by side.

She knows not to run in front of a hunter. Nothing would stop him from giving chase.

He comes to a skidding stop in front of the city's train station. It's an older building, designed in the same style and made of the same materials as the government ones. His hand hovers in front of the door—Machi wouldn't call it hesitation—but when he slips inside she's fast on his heels.

There is a single departing train, picking up speed as it draws away from the platform. It is just far enough away, and moving just fast enough, that they cannot run to it.

He walks up to the platform. Machi can hear him laughing, but then her eyes widen as her own _En _picks up on it.

Nobunaga. Uvogin. General Feyers. And…

"_Danchou_," she breathes. A moment later, and they can no longer see the train.

That had been the mission all along, she realizes. They were here for no other reason than to uncover the full extent of his abilities, and then kidnap him for their boss. And they concealed it from her for no other reason than so Hisoka would not know.

He continues to laugh, and when Machi approaches him, needle and thread in hand, he watches as she sews up the cut above his stomach, running his fingers over the glittering Nen stitches.

"Don't do anything too strenuous," she says, "or you'll open them up."

He looks at her, and it's enough to make her think that he's almost forgotten about the train and everyone in it. "If I do, will you sew it up for me again?"

"Not for free," she says, and that earns her a mischievous grin.

He follows her to Sawar, but she loses sight of him when she enters the main commercial center. It's just as well, as she finds herself wandering the shops with disinterest, eventually coming across a high-class electronics store. She finds what she's looking for and buys it with cash, depleting a good chunk of the money she'd brought with her. She still has the credit card, for food and travel, but this purchase she won't want connected back to any of her accounts.

She finds Hisoka easy enough—his aura is only slightly less lethal than it had been earlier in the day—and she finds that the room of his hotel—one of the nicer ones in the city—smells suspiciously like blood.

"Here." She throws the box at his head. He catches it easily, opening the flaps on the side.

"For me?" He discards the packing material and tilts the box. A phone slides into his hand.

"It's made of some kind of titanium alloy," she says. "It won't break as easily as whatever cheap models you've been using."

He flips it open, staring at the screen with overt delight.

"—I already put in all of the Ryodan's phone numbers—"

"Does it send texts?" he interrupts.

"Yes, of course."

"Does it send _photos_?"

A pause. "Forget it." She makes sure to let the door slam as she leaves.

She gets a message the next week from him—a picture of the skyline of Donlon, followed by a picture of a hotel room number. She doesn't respond. A few similar messages follow, spaced out every few weeks, of a different place she could meet him, if she chose to.

It's some time before she gets a call for another mission. Unlike the last, this one is just for the two of them.

They go to a waterfront city where each building is a different bright color and spend the afternoon sightseeing like tourists. And then they kill eight people. Their mission complete, he offers her another invitation.

It's another year before she gets a message from Danchou, calling all members of the Ryodan to York New City. It's unprecedented, to gather everyone together like this, and they have a new member Machi hasn't met yet, to replace the old number eight.

_Make sure Hisoka attends_, Danchou writes. _Confirm in-person._ _Do you know where he is?_

_Consider it done_, she texts back.

She thinks of the photo she'd gotten, just a few days prior, of the view from Heaven's Arena.

She knows exactly where to find him.

* * *

**END.**

* * *

Notes:

1\. An _Obelus_ is the physical representation of the division symbol (a short horizontal line with a dot above and below). I like the image as resembling two people being divided. All parts of this story, from the themes to the setting, are meant to stand in direct contrast to those in Desideratum, which follows this story and the events of canon.

2\. While the character of the General is my own invention, his ability is grounded in canon-we see Kuroro use a teleportation ability on Nobunaga during the Genei Ryodan arc (vol 12, ch 106, page 7 in the manga).

3\. The main city featured here is not meant to resemble any real-world counterpart. I followed Hunter World tradition in naming other cities mentioned within the story: _Sawar _is a reference to Warsaw, _Baimum _is a reference to Mumbai, and _Donlon _is a reference to London. All cities are used out of their original geographical context. _Plavetnilo _is the Croatian word for 'blue.'

4\. Thank you for reading! I would appreciate and value your reviews.

~Jess


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